


One of Those Days

by stardropdream



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 08:33:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4618632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Porthos comes in from work, looking tired and wretched, and can barely say anything to Aramis’ ‘welcome back’, Aramis knows it’s going to be one of those evenings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One of Those Days

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my tumblr for [this wonderfully schmoopy](http://stardropdream.tumblr.com/post/127170710717/if-youre-still-doing-drabbles-is-it-alright-if) request.

When Porthos comes in from work, looking tired and wretched, and can barely say anything to Aramis’ ‘welcome back’, Aramis knows it’s going to be one of those evenings. It’s alright with him, in all honesty, as his day at work wasn’t much better. He doesn’t always take well to silence, but it’s comforting when Porthos shrugs out of his jacket and shuffles his way over to him. 

Porthos doesn’t say anything, just curls one arm around his middle and hugs up against his back, and he can feel the curve of his nose against the back of his neck – and Aramis breathes out, closes his eyes. 

“I’m making dinner,” Aramis offers. 

“Sure,” Porthos agrees, drawing back and rolling up his sleeves. Porthos peels vegetables while Aramis chops, and there’s comfort in having him so close in his personal space – not enough to bump him and risk hurting himself while holding the knife, but Porthos close enough that every movement feels too close, his breath, the movement of his arm as he sheds the carrots from their skins. 

The room soon smells of home, spices and a just enough olive oil splashing in the pan. But Aramis doesn’t mind – Porthos was always better at this part, anyway, and lets him take the spoon from him. He leans against Porthos’ shoulder, lets his hand splay out across his back. 

Little words pass between them, a moment of exhaustion, of comfort – Aramis is used to talking, used to talking to Porthos, but this, at least, is a quietness he can enjoy when Porthos turns his head and kisses his forehead before dropping pasta into the water. It makes Aramis smile, at least. It won’t be long before he can coax a smile from Porthos, as well, once he’s done concentrating – he always gets a furrowed brow when concentrating. He nuzzles into his shoulder, just in case. Porthos obediently lifts his free hand and pets through his hair.

**Author's Note:**

> My [tumblr](http://stardropdream.tumblr.com), as always.


End file.
